


The one-day regret

by hazk



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Claustrophobia, Drowning, Gen, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Intentionally slow-paced, RvB Angst War, Season/Series 15, Takes place after s15e9, Themes related to:
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-14
Updated: 2017-06-14
Packaged: 2018-11-13 19:49:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,333
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11192193
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hazk/pseuds/hazk
Summary: Grif quit, thinking he had made a mistake as he watched the ships fly away.It was more complicated than that.





	The one-day regret

**Author's Note:**

> Takes place after episode 9 of Season 15 (and includes inspiration from theories back then).

 

Grif knew he had made a mistake.

It’s not like he thought his choice to quit was anything to regret, but neither was he stupid enough not to realise his current situation was less than ideal. Seeing the only two ships around carrying the Freelancers, Reds and Blues leave the moon and him behind was proof enough of that much.

The moment the ships disappeared, the peace he had asked for began to feel foreign and wrong.

He hated them, none of Grif's words had been exactly lies, but there was more to the complicated mess that were his relationships with the Reds and Blues than plain dislike. He had known them all for far too fucking long to pretend otherwise.

But hell if he was going to let some know-it-all reporter chick take any decisions from his hands, putting words in his mouth and manipulating him to go on another insane and pointless mission the simulation troopers seemed oh-so-suited for.

Fuck that.

He had fought hard for his retirement, damn it! This silence was everything he had ever wanted to have.

He was done. He wanted to be done. It had been a long time coming and he deserved so much more, so who gave a shit what the others thought of him now - they had no right to act surprised, as if they hadn't seen it coming! 

Dexter Grif wanted to revel in being alive.

It shouldn’t have been too much to ask for.

“Church being dead isn’t, and never was, my problem. Nobody asked him to sacrifice himself! And I sure didn’t ask for him to be alive either, any of the times he’s –!”

Grif bit down on his lip, interrupting the complaints no one was around to hear. The ship carrying the others was barely out of his sight, it really was too soon to lose his mind all over again.

 _‘Who cares what they think’_ , Grif thought and glared up at the empty skies.  _‘They never learn their fucking lesson, and this is bullshit! They just love to repeat the same old, and I’m pretty sure even Church said that much about –‘_

_‘…I’m done. Not my problem.’_

Grif had spent far too long as a pawn: First as a real soldier and then as a fake one. As the former he had witnessed something he had long since willed himself to forget, and the latter role had placed him in the middle of the most fucked-up military operation and cover-up seen to date – at least in his eyes.

No one ever asked what he wanted, attempting to blind him with medals. Not to say he had minded the admiration of Chorus that much, but there were principals to this kind of thing and he had finally gotten so close to just being... him.

Not a soldier.

It was a really fucking simple thing to ask for.

_‘Sarge was right about you, wasn’t he? When he said you could have found a way to quit whenever you wanted to... Which means you actually ended up here becau–‘_

“Should have gone back home when I still had the chance… Or asked for a lift, but as if that would have gotten me anywhere”, Grif scoffed out loud again, finally turning  his gaze away from the fact that no one was coming back for him and ignoring the way the realisation twisted painfully in his gut. “Would have just crashed on another planet –“

_‘Stop. It.‘_

“– and started this shit all over again!”

_‘Stop. Talking.’_

Grif stood alone on the surface of the abandoned moon, for once admitting that it’s not like he had ever believed this place and these circumstances to be their last stop.

The idea of going home had always terrified him and, no matter how hard he pretended otherwise even now by dismissing the questioning voices in his head, quitting hadn’t been the preferred option. They had said there was nothing left for him there.

The one thing Grif hadn’t wanted to face was the possibility that they had been telling him the truth about Kaikaina’s death. Staying on the moon was-

“Stupid reporter, bringing up Kai, and –”

Dylan hadn’t said that his sister was dead, talking about logs and transcripts and giving Grif no confirmation in her attempt to coax him to join their search for answers. He could never ask for the only answers that actually mattered to him anymore.

Not that he believed a word anyone said regarding the subject anyway.

“– why the fuck didn't the Freelancers tell them to back off?! And…!”

Grif shook his head and walked away.

The moon in its entirety was his own base away from every responsibility that could now be thrown his way. Beyond that, it now existed as an escape from the “fake friends” he had gained from a once “fake war” he had no intention to ever again participate in.

“…Seriously Simmons? Looking so damn defeated and not even trying to ask me to go with you...”

On two separate occasions over the course of this one day, both he and Simmons had had the chance to stare at one another’s retreating backs, neither of them coming up with anything worth saying.

Grif had asked for silence and that’s what he got. He knew he had made a mistake.

 

* * *

 

It took less than twenty four hours of sitting in his room without one step outside for Grif to admit just how restless he was. Whatever sleep he got only made him more paranoid, leaving the taste of copper in his mouth as he continued to chew at his lip.

Denial had taken him a long way with most things in life, but right now he was lost in his own head with no possibility for distractions.

As he exited the building, he barely glanced at the yard the other Reds and Blues had left in a hurry, all of their ongoing projects unfinished along the length of the planet. It was almost as if they would be coming back at any second, even if not for his sake.

“You’re not sentimental, you fuck – what are you _doing_?”

Grif let out a groan as he continued to walk towards the very edge of the cliff to stare at the horizon, trying to make up his mind over what he was feeling.

“They’re probably happy I’m not slowing them down. I sure am.”

_‘…You can’t really think that way. We –!‘_

“Exactly why I’m here and they’re not, couldn’t afford the effort to explain why the fuck it makes no sense to go do… whatever it is they’re doing.”

Grif turned to look at the com tower the group had established after moving in to be able to contact the outside world: the Reds and Blues might have excluded themselves from the rest of the universe for an unspecified period of time, but they still knew they needed a way out in the end.

The other reason for the tower’s existence was also just as obvious, especially now that he had seen exactly how few rations there were left for him.

And that’s what Grif was contemplating over, unsure if he wanted his next move to lead to a ship picking him up or just a supply drop so that he would last on his own for a while longer. The night before was pushing him towards the former option, but the biggest question there was where he was supposed to go instead if staying on the moon was no longer an option.

“Can’t get much worse than this.”

_‘…seriously? Shut your mouth.’_

Contacting Chorus under Santa guiding and protecting the signal turned out to be simple enough and, as the others obviously hadn’t explained the situation to Kimball, Grif was left to tell her a toned down version of the sim troopers fucking off to do whatever, splitting the leaving crew in half while he stayed behind.

_‘It’s only been a day! You’re never this on top of things, what are you doing?! You know this isn’t your prob–!’_

Luckily for him, Kimball had no reason to question either Grif’s decision to stay or what the others were doing in regards to Church’s transmission. He was glad, making the effort to not express any of his frustrations at everyone involved, but it became all the more difficult when he listened to Santa list the options he didn’t have too many of.

It would take days for any ship to reach him as Chorus was in no position to safely handle his request while in the middle of protecting their rights from the UNSC: the last thing the planet needed was to be once more connected to the simulation troopers whose innocence was yet to be proven.

And it’s not like Grif had any right to complain considering the situation he was in, no matter how “selfish” he was determined to be until the very end of it – Tucker’s words, not his.

_‘Okay, so. The last thing we need is for you to convince them to forget all about you. You need those rations.’_

And that was the thing to worry about, with Grif well aware that there was a very limited number of people who knew where he was and even less of them likely to give a fuck over his wellbeing. That in mind, he gave Santa access to his frequency, telling Kimball that she should contact him only when she had a ship ready – he would decide what he wanted to do with it by then.

_‘…We both know exactly what you’re gonna ask them for.’_

Grif ended the call and crossed his arms over his chest, mumbling to himself: “I need to get out.”

_‘Chorus would love to have you back, I guess…? Matthews might even volunteer to hide you in his basement.’_

 

* * *

 

Grif wasn’t sure how many days later he got the call, what with the sun never setting in any of the places they ever decided to settle in at. Of course other ways to follow the passing of time existed, but none of those exactly mattered when Simmons wasn’t there to scream at him about them.

The moment he heard the radio go off, he was on his way. The quiet of the moon was beyond maddening at this point and the ringing promised some type of a conclusion at least which was all he could really ask for.

But of course the conclusion he was given made Grif want to bang his head against the wall, the difficult to suppress mix of spite and worry beginning to take over. “What are you talking about?”

_“I don’t have all the details and I have no time to be your middleman either, I am just relaying what I was told to let you make your own decisions for once. They know this isn’t on you.”_

At least the end of her statement Grif could somewhat appreciate, a notable part of him still furious with Kimball for letting him know in the first place. He could have happily ignored it otherwise.

_‘As if.’_

“…You’re saying I could either wait a few more weeks,  _or years_ , until there’s a ship you can send my way without being trailed or make contact with Carolina  _now_  to have them pick me up while they pass by on their way to get to the others.”

_“Pretty much. I have no resources to support them with, and even if I did they have no time for a longwinded pit stop. Based on what I gathered, Carolina and Wash are barely close enough as it is to get to them within a sensible timeframe.”_

Grif grit his teeth and leaned his forehead against the palms of his hand. “And ‘ _Tucker’s team’_  needs help because?”

_'...Grif? Not your problem, remember?'_

Kimball sighed. 

_“Agent Washington mentioned them meeting another group of Blues and Reds, but that is all I was told. If you ask them, they should be able to make a flyby to come and get you... You are the only one in the area, any other support is… unlikely._

_"And I have a feeling this is something they could really use some with.”_

“They could have just called me on their own, they know where I am better than I do”, Grif sneered through his teeth. “You say you can’t get involved and still you’re pulling this shit  _for them_  –!“

_“Seriously Grif, I have no idea what is happening with them or what you are doing down there, but do I think you deserve to know if something is going on with your friends? Yes. And they thought the same way, apparently, choosing to give you some space to think it through._

_“I am only doing what I can for the people who saved us, which just so happens to include you… And you are the one who wanted to hear any options you might have.”_

“Thanks”, Grif huffed out and shook his head in annoyance. “It’s  _truly_ appreciated.”

 _“That is all I know”_ , Kimball repeated, ignoring the way Grif grumbled to himself on the other end of the line.  _“And I don’t think they have much more to work with either..._

_“You don’t have long until they pass by, and I doubt they would come back for you. Either way, I will call again when I have another ‘offer’ – are you still down there or not.”_

“Great, you do that”, Grif replied bitterly.

 

* * *

 

Two minutes after the call finally ended, Grif made his first move only to punch the table in front of him with all he had. It hurt his fist more than it affected the solid surface.

_‘Isn’t she’s manipulating you too? “I promised to tell you all your options, so, go be someone else’s problem.” Nice job, Vanessa Kimball...’_

“Not my problem, but fuck if it’s any use to…”

_‘…No, stop. Don’t you dare.’_

Two more minutes later, Grif had already called Washington.

With very few words he forced to lack any and all emotion, he told the Freelancer to come and get him. Washington didn’t ask him to explain his reasoning, simply telling him to get ready. For a brief moment Grif wondered if even he himself knew what the hell he was doing, barely in control of his actions.

_‘The fake military really did ruin your life, huh… You know you don’t need to do this, right? You’re under no orders, no contract, no debt, nothing you care about...’_

Grif ignored the familiar voice in his head, focusing instead on putting his armour back on for the first time in days. He would deny the implication until the end of days, but it was still like a kick to the balls to admit, only for second, that he did care - even if the others didn’t deserve it.

Once he was done preparing, he picked up the Grifshot he had kept after the fight at the Staff of Charon, having stashed it so that the UNSC couldn’t take it from him all over again. If he had just done the most idiotic thing in his life and volunteered to fight the unknown for the sake of some people he disliked with a passion, the least he could do was to face it with something kickass.

_‘…Like it or not, the others would approve.’_

 

* * *

 

The ship barely landed before Washington pulled Grif inside, not so gently directing him towards the seat opposite of him as they immediately set off again.

Neither Carolina nor Washington said a word to him at first, and Grif busied himself with studying in interest the way Carolina gripped at the controls. He hadn’t exactly asked what was happening here, and it’s not like Kimball had had any idea either, but whatever the problem was it had clearly set the two ex-Freelancers on edge.

They didn’t seem to care why Grif had decided to come with them in the end, simply thankful for the company – which wasn’t reassuring at all. With a sigh, Grif thought that he had been right after all: he had officially signed up to get killed just because he couldn’t bear the peace and quiet he had finally gotten all for himself.

As the ship’s course steadied, Washington finally turned his helmet from Carolina to Grif to address his presence. “It’s good to see you, but… I hope you know we didn’t want to... The way we acted –”

Grif snapped his helmet towards Wash, ignoring the awkwardness of the sentiment and cutting in:

“What the hell happened after you left?”

Washington shrugged and there was something borderline terrifying in the way he appeared to force his shoulders to relax after the movement. It didn’t work too well. “We don’t know, not exactly.”

That wasn’t the answer Grif had hoped to hear and it made him lean forward in confusion.

_‘Huh... It really wasn’t just about keeping Kimball in the dark, then?’_

“What?”

Wash appeared to be frowning behind his helmet and the way his words stalled made it clear just how uncomfortable he was with whatever he was trying to put into words. “Carolina and I went to talk to Illinois, but… Not that long ago, before we found him, Tucker called in and the signal was all kinds of mangled. We could barely understand anything he said, and we are not sure if he knows we heard him at all…”

“What happened to them?” Grif asked, deciding to ignore the fact that they apparently had no solid way to contact the others or know if they were even still breathing. “What did Tucker  _say_?”

“They met another group of simulation troopers we assume to be the ones behind the attacks. Apparently they also had something to do with Church’s transmission, and… not just that. The missing Freelancers...” Washington's words rolled to a stop, and Grif couldn’t stop himself from shuddering when he saw the way Wash flinched at the last part, his voice forced free of emotion when he continued:

“Tucker didn’t take the time to explain much of it but, to put it simply, they stumbled in a room they shouldn’t have been in, and now they are paying for it.”

“From Wyoming to the Meta, or even all the way to Chorus, how fucked are they?” Grif asked and crossed his arms in an attempt to keep himself still, already knowing there was no comparison to be made there.

“Enough for Tucker to say they are as good as dead and not sound like he was kidding about it”, Carolina stated from the front, the words passing through gritted teeth. “That’s all we have. And with nothing more to work with –”

“– you decided to hurry over without any preparation or hope for backup, because what’s the worst that could happen?” Grif added in, shaking his head and turning away from Wash.

The rest of the flight went by in silence and Grif didn’t complain, even if it was a whole new level of uncomfortable compared to what he had on the moon.

_‘Good, great, fantastic…!’_

* * *

 

Once they landed at the coordinates Tucker had given them, Wash was the first to step outside and look around while Carolina crouched down and tried the team’s radio again, making no progress to reach anyone.

Flying by, they had seen that most of the surrounding area was empty and only some structures were seen on the hills beyond the canyon. They had seen no signs of life though, the canyon itself consisting of two bases with barely even a wasteland in between them.

Grif threw the Grifshot on his back at no sign of imminent danger, instead holding his pistol at the ready. “And we think this isn’t a trap?” he asked, kicking a rock as he held back his anxiety at the idea that there was nothing to be found. 

“No, we think that’s exactly what this is”, Carolina threw back, her voice sharp as she got on her feet and began to jog forward. “And we are heading straight for it.”

Wash glanced at Grif and shrugged, the humourless way he held his battle rifle trained at the cliffs making Grif sigh before they followed after Carolina. “As long as we’re all clear on that…”

They approached the base closest to them – the Red Base, Grif noted based on the “design of the year” which appeared to be globally accepted – and searched the inside of it. They found nothing.

“I know they said there were other Reds and Blues, but this isn’t just another base –  _this is Blood Gulch all over again_ ”, Grif said and surprised even himself with how badly his voice cracked as the words came out.

Wash joined him on top of the Red Base and nodded sullenly as he studied the canyon and the cliffs above. “Yeah… I only went to your bases once, but the similarity is distinct.”

“Of course it is”, Carolina said from below the ramp, gesturing for them to keep moving. “The Project would have never gone through the trouble of designing multiple archetypes for the simulations.”

“But these guys  _specifically_ are pretending to be us, aren’t they? So this is some next level creep-devotion coming from a bunch of copycats…” Grif whined and followed after Carolina and Wash as they headed towards the Blue Base next. He knew better than to complain over the hurry they were in, following after those in charge to the best of his ability.

They didn’t get the feeling someone was watching them and there was no evidence of anything having gone down by any end of the area. But once they entered the Blue Base, they did hear something.

The three stilled, raising their weapons as even Grif readied the Grifshot once more.

The gunshots that echoed from somewhere nearby fell quiet and the Freelancers glanced at one another. Wordless communication was all fine and well as long as it didn’t leave one of those present full-on out of the loop.

“ _What now_?” Grif hissed out in annoyance, hiding his discomfort as he leaned against the wall to make room for Washington who turned the corner and followed the walls outside in an attempt to locate which way the shots had been coming from.

Carolina tried the radio again, ignoring the other two in an effort to test if the disruption stopping them from contacting the others was letting down. Somewhere relatively close by, in the direction of the gunshots, an explosion was heard.

And just like that, as the ground shook slightly underneath their feet, all of their helmet radios screamed their way back online.

“SON OF A BITCH!”

Dropping the Grifshot, Grif reached up for his helmet as he was very loudly reminded of the fact that he had never remembered to shut off his team’s frequency after the others had left. His first thought was that Simmons would kill him if he knew, quickly lowering the volume to get rid of the static ringing in his ears.

The second thought was a little more unclear, for obvious reasons.

_“DONUT! GET DOWN!”_

Grif blinked slowly and turned helplessly to Carolina who had barely even startled at the radio coming back to life along with the familiar voices, already motioning for Wash to start talking while they hurried outside.

Grif was left standing on his own, listening on as Simmons continued to scream at Donut in his ears and not liking the irritation he had heard in the other man’s voice. It barely covered for the panicked way he was snapping orders at the other Red.

 _“Simmons, this is Agent Washington. Can you hear me?”_ Wash said and Grif registered how he now heard the Freelancer through his helmet alone. It made him swallow down his shock, picking up his weapon and hurrying off to keep up with the two.

 _“Wash? Wash!”_  Tucker yelled through the radio next.  _“Wash, where are you?!”_

“Blue Base”, Washington spoke calmly just as they heard more gunshots and turned towards the stone walls of the canyon. “We need to –“

_“Shit! Not good enough! You need to go north, out of the canyon! To get underground, the only entrance we saw is in through the caves, near the pond that’s not a pond!”_

“Aren’t you above –“

_“No! Yes! Sarge, Lopez, that Jax-guy, and Dylan should be up there somewhere! We managed to make a distraction big enough for them to get up there to blow up the towers, to get the radios back, but we are still being held –”_

There were more gunshots but this time they came through the radio, interrupting Tucker’s speech.

Grif tightened his hold on his weapon as Carolina spoke:

“We are almost there. Stay in cover.”

They ran up the hill and to the pond that wasn’t apparently pond for some reason, finding the wall with the abandoned, wide-open doorway easily enough.

On their way up, the radio had been filled with the Reds and Blues yelling at one another in the middle of their two separate gunfights as their rescuers had remained quiet in an attempt to allow them to focus on keeping themselves alive. Some distance away, they saw a pillar of smoke and heard the sounds of the fight Sarge, Lopez, Jax and Dylan were supposedly on the other end of.

Wash looked at Carolina who lifted a hand to her helmet.

“Sarge, what’s your situation?”

Grif listened to the tight edge on Sarge’s reply and having no idea what had gone down to cause it made him sick. He wanted to ask, make them tell him, but he wasn’t prepared to let the others know he was here in the first place. And its not like the Freelancers knew either, still managing to keep their cool just fine.

Grif knew he didn’t fit in with them, heroically swooping in to get everyone out okay. He didn’t even want to be here.

Barely registering the words Sarge and Washington exchanged, Grif watched Wash turn around to go help the three already on the surface. Carolina took a hold of Grif’s shoulder and directed him towards the underground before stepping in front of him.

“Stay behind me.”

Grif wasn’t sure if he was supposed to take her words as a warning or a show of trust, but he did his best to have Carolina’s back anyway.

 

* * *

 

Not long past the doorway, one stairway after another began to lead them forward on a downward spiral.

Carolina kept them running past the back to back sets of corridors and stairs at a steady pace, the dim and flickering lights above making the tightly build space feel like it was enclosing in on them with each step they took deeper below ground. Everything seemed well crafted enough, the beams around them supporting the structures that guided them forward without any implication over what the meaning of the place was.

Their only brief stop was by an intersection with signs telling them that the entrance was to the right and maintenance to the left. Carolina didn’t speak, not to Grif or the others who continued instructing each other in how to hold back their attackers, as she turned to the right.

Tucker had told them to head for the entrance, and apparently that meant something more than just a plain door on the side of a cliff.

They continued running down the corridor and yet another set of stairs, hurrying over a few shaky platforms below which there was nothing visible but the darkness of the depths they were entering. The echo of their reinforced boots against the metallic structures was deafening and Grif could forget all about how out of breath he was if running meant getting out any faster.

Minutes later, as they reached an enormous door – once again left wide open – Carolina aimed to run straight through, Grif drew her attention back before she could get to the facility itself:

“W-wait a sec – Carolina, look!”

Carolina stopped to turn her gaze at a small monitor mounted on the control panel by the door, which Grif was now standing by.

“Pretty sure I just saw... Tucker, or, uh… Church? The fake Church? The fake ‘us’ are here, right?”

Grif frowned at his own words as he took the time to catch his breath, glancing at Carolina who walked up to him to lean in to take look at the footage. The view on the screen seemed to switch between rooms further in the facility without specifying exactly where each of the cameras were located.

Carolina reached for the controls, but just as she did Grif heard something underneath the sounds of everyone else yelling over the radio. He had completely forgotten he was on the channel with them.

_“G-Grif…?”_

Simmons’ voice was quiet, the shock apparent in the way Grif could barely make out his words.

_“Grif, you, why are you…?“_

The others continued their yelling and Carolina pulled away from the screen, something she had seen on it making her take cover by the doorway and glance in the hallway beyond the entrance.

Whatever orders Carolina gave him went completely over his head as Grif wondered just why he hated hearing his name much more now than he had ever before, even with the experience of having Sarge yell at him on a daily basis.

_‘Focus: you’re in the middle of a –!‘_

Grif swallowed hard and turned to Carolina, taking cover by the control panel as he heard footsteps echo from beyond the door and heading towards them. He glanced up at the screen and saw a brief flash of someone in blue armour before the view changed, finally catching Carolina’s signal to act.

Without thinking it over, Grif jumped forward and aimed the Grifshot around the corner. The figure at the end of the hallway looked just like Tucker to him, but who cares if Carolina wanted him to shoot a grenade at the guy.

And as the soldier noticed him and halted in his feet, Grif did exactly that.

 _“W-what are you doing here?”_ Simmons asked as Grif took cover behind the control panel again, his voice growing into a squeak at the explosion ringing through the channel.

Grif flinched as he heard the Tucker-lookalike scream, but at least his voice managed to prove something: the man in question hadn’t been one of their Blues.

_“Grif?!”_

Carolina gave him the thumbs up and Grif’s mind was filled with static. 

“Y-yeah, I’m here –“

 _“Why?!”_ Simmons’ mood shifted and he sounded angry now. The irritation from before was back in full force as he yelled at him, the others continuing to ignore the two to focus on the fight at hand.

Grif frowned, taking a deep breath as Carolina motioned that the coast was clear.

“Take the left”, Carolina said loud enough for Grif to catch her words and he nodded back, unsure still where all this trust was coming from. But he didn’t exactly have the time test it out and fail her or Simmons with how things were going – one mistake was one too many.

“Didn’t –“

Another explosion from somewhere far away interrupted Grif’s belated reply to Simmons and he steadied his stance as the ground shook in disdain over the structural damage it immediately attempted to compensate for. It wasn’t enough to stop him and Carolina from pushing forward, running through the hallway and past the aqua-armoured soldier bleeding on the floor.

“Didn’t have anything better to do.”

Grif had to admit it wasn’t one of his best lines, but he had other things to worry about and, truthfully, no better explanation to give. Simmons seemed to disagree though, his anger flaring through the com:

_“What the hell, Grif! What kind of a reason is that sup–”_

A small, almost confused “Woah!” was all Grif managed to get through before Tucker cursed loudly, practically screaming at them over all other sounds:

_“Hey! It’s great to have you back and all, but for fuck’s sake! Could you please have your lover’s quarrel when we’re no longer dying down here!?”_

Grif grimaced, the familiar nodes of denial and repressed anger that lingered towards the others doing their job in helping him ignore every aspect of the comment.

“ _No one’s dying!_ ”

And with that, all hope for a well-constructed military operation were officially down the drain, the idea only fortified when all of a sudden Carolina stopped running, practically braking on her feet as she exited the hallway to reach the first brightly-lit opening they had seen below the ground.

Right behind her, Grif turned to look in the direction Carolina’s helmet was pointed at and immediately forgot just how out of character he found her surprised gasp to be.

“N-not a pond…” Grif said through his heavy breathing, taking a swaying step towards the see-through wall showing them just where the levels and levels of stairs had taken them down to. “Not a  _fucking_ pond.”

 _“You didn’t know?”_  Tucker asked, letting out a humourless chuckle.  _“Turns out you were right to stay out of this one, Grif.”_

“Tucker”, Carolina hissed out in warning, making the other sigh before he explained with as few words as he could:

_”Yeah, yeah – we’re underneath a fucking ocean or something and the people here with us seem all too fond over the idea of blowing the place up. So, we’re in a bit of a hurry to get out. Now.”_

Almost as if to prove Tucker’s point, the glass walls shook at the distant echo of an explosion tearing the facility’s supports apart.

 

* * *

 

“Change of plans”, Carolina said suddenly, turning to Grif as Tucker continued to explain where he approximated his team’s location to be in comparison to the entrance. Through this, Grif stared at the fish passing by and gave Carolina a small nod to show that he was somewhat listening.

“While I go get Tucker and the others, you go back to the surveillance monitor and tell us about anything you see. Even if it’s just one of the views that shows something of use, it could very well be the only advantage we get”, Carolina stated and took a step towards Grif.

“S-sure thing, I can do that”, Grif replied and nodded again. He was still trying to catch his breath and felt his legs giving in with how much running they had already done in one day – not even the meth-mushrooms on the moon had made him feel this out of it when their effect had eventually run out. Grif found himself to be thankful as Carolina must have known the same, not holding it against him and instead making him useful in a way that could benefit them more in the long run than dragging him along did.

“Wait”, Grif said when Carolina went to turn around, taking the Grifshot off his back and holding it towards her. “You want this?”

Grif felt his entire body shake under the impact of Carolina landing a heavy hand on his shoulder, for once not making the moment of reassurance feel out of place before she took the weapon from his hands, placing another pistol into his before she ran off without another word.

Grif huffed to himself as he turned back towards the hallway leading to the entrance, putting the last of his energy into jogging to the monitor to do his job. “Better appreciate the gesture…” he mumbled, completely forgetting everyone could hear him until Carolina chuckled and replied:

_“I do, but I would also prefer all things capable of blowing this place into tiny little pieces be in my possession rather than in any of yours.”_

Grif didn’t splutter nor did he hear any of the comments the others made somewhere far away, the group taking the chance to break through the stress of the situation with some insults and jokes. It all went back to being far too familiar, no explanations needed. He didn't like it.

 

* * *

 

For what felt like hours, compared to all the running they had done earlier, Grif stood by the entrance and watched the footage from inside.

He might have come to help the others out, but even still Grif was the only one not directly participating in the fight. For a second it hit him as amusing more than anything else – he hadn’t missed out on much on his time alone, and there really seemed to be no point to him having changed his mind in the first place.

But Grif found himself relieved when Washington said he had gotten to Sarge’s team just in time, even if they were currently holed up by the caves with their enemy surprisingly well prepared to play defence to hold them still. The exact same thing was happening inside the facility too, with Carolina having found Tucker, Donut, Simmons and Caboose easily enough only to be immediately pinned down.

In the end, all Grif could do was try to mess with the cameras and call out anything he saw, already half expecting for the signal to move what with him being the only one still free to do so. But Carolina continued to be very clear with her orders, saying they had everything under control for retreat after Grif helped them locate a maintenance shaft they found to be able to take them right up to the level above once they pushed the enemy a little further back for comfort.

When that were to happen, Grif would need to run back up to the corridor he and Carolina had come down from, officially on his own to make it out alive. 

Grif wasn’t so sure he was the one in the best position once he gathered that he would have a longer way to go than the others did. Whoever had designed the place and located its apparent main entrance to the very opposite side of everything else had been a genius.

 _“Beginning to feel they’re not too eager to die with us”_ , Tucker said.  _“They’re retreating!”_

 _“Which means our time is up”_ , Carolina stated without a shred of worry over the fact audible in her voice.  _“They must know another route outside: We need to get going if we want to catch them on the surface. Can you see where they are heading, Grif?”_

“I have no control over this thing so no”, Grif grunted. “Or… Okay, never mind.”

Grif leaned towards the screen as the view changed, showing him a hallway where one figure flashed by. He went on to do his job, describing what he saw:

“There's one guy running down… what looks like a maintenance tunnel, all wires and tubes and shit. Huge number fifteen or sixteen on the wall…? Bad lighting.”

 _“What?”_  Tucker yelled out as his group began to run for their way out.  _“We were there earlier for the distraction we pulled, way before they drove us to the halls above it – don’t fucking tell me there was an exit there?!”_

“Don’t think so”, Grif replied, leaning in further as the view changed once more. “Looks like a dead-end to me.” The screen was now showing the shadow of one armoured soldier impossible to make out clearly, crouched on the floor in the dark. “He’s working on something.”

 _“What?”_  Simmons asked, for the first time - after his initial screaming - addressing Grif.  _“What is he –?”_

 _“Never mind that – Grif, you should get going. You need a head-start for the stairs”_ , Carolina said through the echoing footsteps as her team continued onward.  _“We will meet you at the surface.”_

“Sure”, Grif said sullenly and took a deep breath in preparation for the long journey ahead, having just for a moment had the best job in years.

 

* * *

 

Now running towards the exit, Grif barely heard to the others’ rushed breathing on the other end of the line. His mind went blank as he focused on not tripping on his own feet, his muscles protesting over the effort of climbing even the first few sets of stairs. He didn’t even want to think about the hundreds of steps more awaiting for him above.

Reaching the next level some minutes later, Grif stopped to catch his breath just as a familiar icon appeared on the bottom of his visor. Not registering it as odd, he thought instead that there was no reason to avoid it any further as he got back to running.

“W-why the private chann–?” Grif went to ask through his laboured breathing, after having muted himself from the team radio, but Simmons interrupted him before he could finish:

_“Don’t tell them, please Grif!”_

“…What? Who?”

 _“T-the others”,_  Simmons replied, something in his voice making Grif slow down in his steps and immediately forget all about keeping his footing.  _“You need to get out!”_

“Why can’t I tell them –?“

 _“Not that!”_  Simmons spat out, breathing heavily.  _“You n-need to tell them to hurry up! Get out!”_

“We’re already going, almost outside”, Grif replied, his breath catching as his brain finally took in the panic he was hearing in Simmons’ voice. “What’s going on, where are you?”

_“I-I –“_

“Simmons?”

_“On my way, okay? J-just, this place is breaking down – it’s worse than you think! You said they were working on something so I went back and saw the damage, they’ve set the foundation to blow up and t-there’s no way to stop it, there's minutes left and I can't, there's no time –“_

A tremor travelled through the floor, shaking the walkway Grif stood on and making him reach out for the handrail in fear of being thrown off the side, but even through it he attempted to continue walking forward. He couldn't hear what Simmons was saying.

_“– sorry! You need –“_

_“Grif, hurry up”_ , Carolina spoke over Simmons’ voice.  _“We are already at the intersection, through the left-side corridor. We need to stop the –”_

“Yeah, yeah – hold on!” Grif snapped, not remembering that she couldn’t hear him at the moment. Instead, he raised a hand to his helmet as if it would help him hear Simmons better.

_“ – to go, and get everyone out now!”_

“Calm down, we’re almost out and Carolina’s all ready to hunt these guys down on the surface.”

_“Did you –?”_

“Everyone knows already, we’re go-“, Grif began, his words coming to a halt and his lungs constricting as he heard Simmons’ cough.

“…You’re not running”, Grif said more to himself as he stopped moving entirely, practically feeling how his brain short-circuited. “You, wait, aren’t you with them? You -”

_“Grif…”_

“Don’t.”

 _“Y-you can’t tell them”_ , Simmons begged and Grif’s eyes widened as he heard the sound in the background of the call, like a pipe had burst as water began to pour in –

“Where the fuck are you?” Grif snarled and immediately after, without thinking about it, muted his call with Simmons so that he could address the others and Carolina instead: “I’m almost outside, on the catwalk to the last stairs before the exit!”

Grif could practically feel Carolina’s glare, but knew she had no time to question him.

“I’m not an idiot, alright? Go catch the bad guys”, Grif scoffed through his heavy breathing to not give her a chance to say anything more. “What’s the worst that could happen, there’s no one here!”

 _“Better not be”_ , Carolina replied and Grif chuckled humourlessly at how the group had completely missed Simmons not following behind them. He knew there was no time to tell them to turn around if they were already outside.

Turning off the team’s channel and switching back to the one with Simmons, Grif repeated his earlier question but more calmly this time:

“Where are you?”

_“…doesn’t matter.”_

“It does if you’re still down there somewhere!”

 _“Okay, fine!”_ Simmons snapped, the lack of emotion taking over his voice making Grif’s skin crawl: _“T-there’s no time, it’s done! I –’_

Simmons coughed again and Grif cursed under his breath, turning back towards the way he had just come from to start running. He had to go get him, he was the only one who could. 

_"Y-you said not all of them were leaving, and Tucker and Carolina were too busy hunting t-the rest to the surface to look behind them, so I-I slipped off to check the tunnel you saw and noticed the setup they had made and followed it – I h-had to t-try to stop it in case there was a timer or, or – but I can’t, it will go off –“_

“We were all getting out already, Simmons, you had orders and you weren’t meant to  _do that!_ ” Grif yelled, hurrying through the corridor and cursing at himself as he finally realised there was no way Simmons was anywhere near the direction he was heading to: Carolina and Tucker’s team had run up to the left-side corridor, which meant that Grif was once again running towards the very opposite end of the massive structure.

“Where are you?!”

Simmons didn’t seem to hear him, continuing his speech as if it was the only thing that mattered:

_“– If the timer had gone off, e-everyone would be dead and I had to find it, but there was one of them here, like you said, but I didn’t see him in time, he saw me and knew I wasn’t Gene, he’s already d-dead, so he started to shoot at –“_

“Y-you, he”, Grif managed to say through his heavy breathing, running down the stairs as fast as he could as an alarm began to blare somewhere in front of him. “You fucking –!“

_“– and he had a-already set off the first set of charges so the support collapsed in the tunnel and he, I, Grif, I-I can’t stop the timer and you can’t tell them – you need to get out –“_

Grif hissed, wishing he didn’t have his armour on so that he could run faster, pull at his hair or do something, anything, to distract himself from the way Simmons’ words began to fall quiet at the lack of strength behind them.

“And  _why the hell_  did you think calling me was a good idea?!” Grif spat out viciously, knowing exactly why and hating himself for it just as he stopped in front of the underwater base’s entrance. He stared at the now closed door in shock and turned to the terminal by it, seeing the warnings that informed him that the safety protocols had been engaged.

The supporting structures below the ocean floor had been damaged beyond repair, the water already beginning to find its way inside, and there was no way for him to protect the base from the timed explosives Simmons had talked about either.

And Simmons had finally stopped talking, probably think over how to answer his question, but Grif wasn’t a fan of the change. Listening to Simmons’ wheezing breaths and biting at his lip to keep himself calm, he began to mess with the door’s controls.

 _“Guess I-I wanted you to know…”_  Simmons finally replied, letting out a tired sigh.  _“To... not have to search… I knew you would, I should have known, what I said... didn't say, at the moon... I...”_

Grif felt like ripping the control panel from the wall and found himself considering the option of just shooting it instead – it had worked before. But if it didn’t, he’d have nothing left. 

Another explosion rang from underground, shaking the terminal and almost making Grif lose his footing. He didn’t even notice it, only focusing on the way he heard Simmons gasp before a solid thud was heard from his end.

“…Shit”, Grif whispered, his mind going blank as he saw the footage from somewhere in the facility where everything had been blown apart, the glass walls visibly cracking even in the grainy view of the screen. His mind added to the scenario, painting a picture of the water breaking through and filling everything inside. He wondered what would kill him first, the water or the impact.

 _“I-I fell, nothing… more”_ , Simmons chuckled, the probable cause for him loosening up not one Grif wanted to think about.  _“Could be worse…”_

“How?!” Grif yelled out without any control over his cracking voice, reluctantly turning his eyes from the screen and the unlikely chance of seeing Simmons there, trying not to think about how him commenting over that exact same footage was the reason Simmons was down there in the first place. “How the  _fuck_  could this get any worse from here!? Do tell me, I’d love to find out!!”

Simmons was quick to reply, knowing exactly what he needed to say as if he had been preparing to do so for weeks:

_“Y-you could be here… or not out there… Either way w-would suck… You didn’t need to come, Grif, I didn’t want, I was supposed to find a way back to… You were right, I wanted to –”_

“Shut up”, Grif spat out, glaring at the controls in front of him with enough anger to feel his body tremble from more than just the ground shaking beneath his feet. “You’re losing it.  _Shut up_.”

Simmons giggled through the static of the radio and Grif could hear him change his position, his armour scraping loudly against the floor he was lying on.  _“D-dying does that… to you, I guess... Better keep calm...”_

“No one’s  _dying_!” Grif yelled and and felt a sense of déjà-vu as the words left his mouth, continuing to pull at the biggest levers without knowing what they did. “I’ll figure this shit out!”

There was a pause of relative silence with only the alarms blaring in the background, the building screaming underneath the weight of the water as it tried to hold together a little while longer.

_“…w-where are you?”_

Simmons’ voice was small and confused as he tried to understand what Grif had just said, hearing the echo of the alarms through his feed, and it made Grif wince as he pressed yet another button. He noticed the icon on the corner of his visor telling him that Carolina was trying to reach him, most likely having realised that there were more than one of her men missing at this point.

Briefly Grif thought that he needed to answer her, to let Carolina know that it was all on him, but for now focusing on anything other than Simmons wasn’t an option. The others would have to wait.

Grif knew he shouldn’t tell Simmons what he was trying to do.

_“Grif…?”_

“I’m… I’m by a control panel,or  _something_. I just need to open this damn door to –”

_“Underground?”_

Grif knew he shouldn’t tell him, but: “Yes.”

_“Get out.”_

Simmons voice grew steadier and Grif could picture him glaring at his nametag on his visor, ordering him to listen. The look had never worked on him, but if he had been anywhere near enough Simmons would no doubt have used what strength he had left to strangle Grif by now.

Grif shook his head, letting out a small, desperate chuckle as he forced himself to get rid of the mental image. “No.”

_“And w-why the fuck not?”_

Grif heard Simmons weak cough and ignored it, focusing on reading the messages on the monitors to learn how to redirect the power to get the doors to open before the platform gave out underneath the pressure of an entire ocean pushing the walls in.

Losing to the pressure wouldn’t just destroy the underwater facility, but every corridor and stairway balanced around and above it as well. Being inside, right by the sealed off doors, was a sure way to get blown into pieces when the fine-tuned structures finally gave in – Grif wasn’t stupid, he knew that much. 

But what he also knew was that the only word on the screens he actually understood made it pretty clear that overwriting the lockdown was impossible, and that was just one of the many things in life he was willing to ignore. 

As per usual, denial took him a long way.

“I need to –“

 _“Stop. Talking”_ , Simmons spat out, surprising Grif by being the one no longer falling apart as the facts began to settle in.  _“S-stop it. Don’t you dare… do this…”_

“I –”

_“Get. Out.”_

Simmons wasn’t able to raise his voice anymore, but even through his shallow breathing Grif could hear just how much he wanted him to listen for once. He set his jaw and made the effort to shield both himself and Simmons from the anger he felt flaring at the words: 

Simmons must have known he wouldn’t be able to leave, and it was too late anyway - it had been for a long time now.

"No, I just..."

_“Grif…”_

Grif heard the creaking of the metal all around him, the mess of noises multiplied by the sounds reaching him through Simmons’ helmet radio. He couldn’t imagine how bad it must have been down there, in a tunnel below when the windows cracked inwards and the water gushed in through the edges of the –

“Already told you I have nothing better to do”, Grif said, his voice barely audible and his hands gripping at the control panel as he forced out a smile. ”Get used to it, nerd.”

_“Grif, I-I swear to –“_

The platform shook dangerously, something more or less fundamental breaking beneath Grif’s feet and sending him sprawled on to the floor. He closed his eyes as pain flared behind his eyelids, his leg twisting at an off angle.

The floor trembled as metal began to bend around him.

Grif could hear the water beginning to crush everything below, his eyes flying wide open in realisation only to see that it wasn’t only the warning lights that had gone dark.

“S-Simmons…?”

The channel was filled with static and, a moment later, Grif’s visor informed him that the connection had been lost. He couldn’t see anything in the darkness, his reality build on the sounds of everything that had gone wrong by him coming here.

He didn’t move. He wasn’t sure he could even if the tried.

The ground kept shaking and a pipe blew apart somewhere to his left, reminding Grif of exactly what that meant for him as he reached out to take a hold of a valve on the wall by him, steadying himself.

It was too loud. 

At a drop of a pin, the entire platform would collapse. 

All he could hear was the water destroying everything in its way. 

The others must have known. Simmons was gone. He didn’t have time. They should be back to the surface by now. They wouldn’t have come back for him.

Grif bit his lip, still clinging on to the valve as he pressed his eyes shut for a little while longer to even out his breathing. He had known this was going to happen. He had known.

There was nothing to complain about.

As Grif opened his eyes, he noticed that Carolina’s name flashing before him was the only source of light left. He remembered that he was supposed to answer her. They must be on the surface by now.

_‘Alright, numbnuts…’_

“B-better keep calm, you said...”

_‘Sure. And what are we going to do now…?’_

“Guess we should… let them know we’re not coming...”

Grif didn’t pull himself up, simply laying there and holding on to the wall with everything he had. The ground kept shaking with increasing momentum and he could hear the water burst through any small crack it could get to, the door by him bulging further inwards as the platforms began to collapse.

They shouldn’t have to be kept waiting. He was below the surface. Simmons was somewhere behind the door. There were mere seconds left.

They shouldn’t have to search for them.

_‘Yeah… Try telling them that, just try to make them believe.’_

“You did the same thing, Dick. Didn’t work, but...”

Grif chuckled before he took Carolina’s call.

For once there was no yelling, and no one had time to question his decision to stay. 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: Grif changes his mind and comes back, but he's too late and Simmons is already dead (by secretlystephaniebrown).


End file.
